


Dancer

by RoSH (RoSH95)



Category: No. 6 - Asano Atsuko
Genre: Forest People, Nameless - Freeform, Traveling, nezumi wanders, shion is only mentioned like once
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-21
Updated: 2017-08-21
Packaged: 2018-12-18 01:18:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11863650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoSH95/pseuds/RoSH
Summary: “When I was young, my grandma told me a story about how our people have many different clans in many different cities. She said that some sang for the God, and some performed instrumental music, and some acted. I left my clan to find the others.” She hesitates. “There are none left. In each city, I found only ruins and skeletons, and no one would tell me what had happened. You are the only one I have found.”





	Dancer

**Author's Note:**

> Holy shit is it RoSH??? IT FUCKING IS!!! BACK FROM THE DEAD MOTHERFUCKERS!!!!!!
> 
> I'm SO sorry for the long radio silence ^^; I got really caught up with school (it killed me. for reals) and then getting readmitted to my old college (which I dropped out of two years ago its a long story dont ask) and then working two jobs over the summer and slowly writing another LONG story. I needed a break from that one since I wasn't getting anywhere so I'm working on finishing up the first chapter of my No. 6 chapter story XD unfortunately, this is not it. However, this is part of the first chapter for that story.
> 
> I wrote this piece for my creative writing class last semester and I thought someone might enjoy it XD

He sees a fire in the distance. Normally when he sees signs of other people, he turns and goes the other way. But it’s a cold night and he could use the warmth of the fire.

When he gets closer, he sees a figure moving fluidly around the fire, swaying hips and waving arms to a beat he can’t hear. Every time they move, the sound of sweet bells reaches his ears. Are they… dancing? He thinks they’re dancing. But it’s no kind of dance he’s ever seen before. In fact, all they’re really doing is spinning in lazy circles and moving their arms in grandiose gestures--almost like he does when he’s acting.

He steps right up to the edge of the circle of firelight and, here, he can see that the dancer is a young girl, maybe fourteen. She’s dressed similarly to him, in baggy grey pants that look at least a size too big for her and a black long-sleeved shirt with patched up holes. There’s a swath of purple fabric tied around her waist with little bells attached to it--the only spot of color on her. Her feet are bare, and she must have shoes around here somewhere, but he doesn’t see them. There’s a brown pack and a black leather jacket thrown off to the side.

He steps into the light and, almost immediately the dancer stops moving and turns to face him. In the flickering light, he can tell that her hair is black and her eyes are a stormy grey almost the exact same shade as his. It is… surprising, to say the least.

“Oh!” she says, and her voice is young and sweet like the bells jingling at her waist. “You surprised me. I wasn’t expecting to find company out here!”

“I’m just wandering,” he replies.

“Well, wanderer,” she says with a smirk that is entirely too much like his own, “you are welcome to share my fire.” She pauses and her smirk widens to a grin. “As long as you don’t mind my dancing.”

He shrugs, and she seems to take that as answer enough. She turns to go back to the other side of the fire, where her pack is, motioning him to follow. He steps further in towards the fire, relishing in its warmth. The girl starts dancing again, her bare feet making a _thump, thump, thump_ ing rhythm against the dirt.

He’s suddenly hit with the urge to sing and the words come unbidden to his mind. He hesitates for a moment, because even if he’s never minded sharing his voice with others, the last person who heard him sing was _Him_ , and he’s not sure he wants to share that with anyone else yet.

But the urge won’t go away, so he opens his mouth and softly begins to sing.

_The winds sweep away souls, and people snatch away hearts._  
_Oh earth, oh rain and wind, oh sky, oh light,_  
_please harbor everything in this place._  
_Please harbor everything in this place,_  
_and thrive in this place._  
_Oh souls, oh hearts, oh love, oh yearnings,_  
_please return to this place,_  
_and abide here forever._  
_The winds sweep away souls, and people snatch away hearts._  
_Nevertheless, I shall remain in this place_  
_and continue singing._  
_Please, somehow,_  
_send my song to where it must reach._  
_Please, somehow,  
_ _receive and accept this song of mine._

When his song comes to a close, the girl, who had easily shifted her movements to the beat of his song, whirls around one last time before coming to a stop, one leg raised high behind her and arms outstretched toward the starry sky, as though reaching for something. She remains in place for a long moment before lowering her leg and arms and turning to face him, almost as though in slow motion. Her eyes are wide and bright with excitement, and her chest is heaving from the exertion of dancing.

“You have a beautiful voice,” she says, smiling softly at him, like she knows the words bring pain. “Thank you.”

“My people used to sing as an offering to our deity,” he offers her softly.

She approaches him hesitantly, as though he is a wild animal about to bolt, and sits next to him when he doesn’t move.

“What happened to them?” she asks, voice just barely above a whisper.

“There was a fire,” he says with a sigh, leaning back on his hands to look at the stars. “I was the only survivor.”

She doesn’t say anything, and he’s grateful for the silence. He doesn’t need pity or sympathy, it happened a long time ago and he was so young that he hardly remembers it. But the wound is still a painful ache in his heart, that not even time can heal.

They sit together in silence for a long time, until the fire is little more than ashes and coals and the moon is high in the sky.

Finally, she breaks the silence.

“My people are similar to yours, except we dance for our deity,” she says. “When I was young, my grandma told me a story about how our people have many different clans in many different cities. She said that some sang for the God, and some performed instrumental music, and some acted. I left my clan to find the others.” She hesitates. “There are none left. In each city, I found only ruins and skeletons, and no one would tell me what had happened. You are the only one I have found.”

“There were once others like us?” he murmurs, mostly to himself.

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't liked the ending ever but I can't think of a better way to end it DX
> 
> How did you like it? I originally kept the characters nameless because this was written for a class, but then I decided I liked it so I'm keeping it like that ;) Maybe I'll get the first chapter of the actual story out in the next month, but don't get your hopes up. 
> 
> Comments are the lifeblood of authors so if you liked this story PLEASE drop me a comment! Thanks for reading!


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